


Apath

by ZarryFTZouis



Series: Chrissy's Oneshots [99]
Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Assassin Zayn, Epilogue, M/M, Plot Twists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 04:25:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3837031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZarryFTZouis/pseuds/ZarryFTZouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apath - n. person without any feelings<br/>(comes from the Latin prefix 'a' meaning 'without' and Greek word 'pathos' meaning 'feelings or emotions')</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apath

**Author's Note:**

> I'm such a nerd, I didn't even use the dictionary for the definition I used above. Don't worry, it's 150% accurate. 
> 
> Like always, side Narry for my Zouis.

Louis sighs as he looks out his window, thinking it needs a good cleaning.

If he had feelings, he’d be frustrated right now.

 _“I don’t understand how you can be human,”_ his last boyfriend told him when they broke up _. “You’re just a shell of a human being.”_

Oh, how right those words are.

“Louis?” His best friend, Harry, quips, his long messy curls unbrushed. “Um, Liam is out of town and I didn’t want to spend the night alone.”

“Like I care whether I’m alone or not,” Louis grins, leading Harry to the guest room his friend practically owns.

“Don’t be too harsh—oh wait, you don’t care,” Harry rolls his eyes. “Nick says hi.”

“He’s not… my concern,” Louis words carefully. “He may have this ridiculous crush on me, but I will never return those feelings.”

“Oh well,” Harry shrugs nonchalantly.

-

“Your heart is very closed off,” his client, Josh, tells Louis something he well knows. “How can you call yourself human?”

“The very reason why your boyfriend wants to order restraints,” Louis replies calmly. “I’m a defense attorney, not your shrink.”

“You’re a sick man, Tomlinson,” the client acts as if Louis hasn’t spoken. “One day, you’ll pay the price.”

 

Two hours later, it’s Louis’ much awaited lunch break, and he uses the opportunity to visit Nick. Nick, Harry, and he have been friends for last two decades, and he has no intention of ruining it with _anything_. Sure, he’s been called bad things for not having feelings, but that’s what an apath is.

“You look worn out,” Nick offers a smile Louis can’t and won’t return. “Who grilled you?”

“Some blond complaining about his boyfriend issues,” Louis takes a seat across from Nick. “Why are you a DJ?”

“Because it thrills me to play with music,” Nick shrugs, sipping his mocha latte. “Why are you a defense attorney?”

“It doesn’t require having feelings,” Louis replies all too simply. “It’s quite straightforward what you do with your clients.”

“That’s what you say,” Nick muses. “But what if you fall in love?”

“We both know that’s not a possibility,” Louis scoffs. “I may fuck here and there but that doesn’t need me to feel some petty shit for them.”

-

“Your new client is hot as fuck,” Harry comments right before his exit. “I have eyes!”

“You’re my assistant deputy, not a gossiper,” Louis groans, shooing his friend out of his office.

“If you don’t want him, I call dibs!”

Louis rolls his eyes and lets his client know he’s ready through the intercom.

“Hello,” the newcomer has a thick Yorkshire accent that’s mixed with something else. “I’m, um, I guess you can call me a private investor.”

“Your job isn’t really important,” Louis replies monotonously. “How can I help you, sir?”

“I recently split with my fiancée and she isn’t taking it well,” Zayn—Louis read the name off of the file—starts. “I don’t know why she’s so bitchy, it’s like she didn’t notice us drifting apart.”

“I’m not interested in chitchats, sir, so would you kindly get to the point?” Louis snaps, then regrets soon after.

_Wait, did I just say ‘regret’?_

“You’re just like your employees describe you, Louis Tomlinson,” Zayn’s amber eyes shine with amusement. “Cold and unfeeling, isn’t that what you do best?”

“Babe, that’s the _second_ best thing I do,” Louis smirks, feeling a bit playful. That doesn’t require any feelings, right? “I could show you, but I don’t want to give you false hopes.”

“Flirting counts as feeling something, Mr. Tomlinson,” Zayn taps at the spot on the desk in front of him. Louis sees a delicate Henna tattoo on the back of his tanned hand. “Tell me, is there any reason why you stopped feeling anything?”

“That’s none of your concern,” Louis grins with fake friendliness. “Now give me the case, or I’ll throw you out myself.”

“Babe, we both know you want more of me than anything else,” Zayn chides him. “But if you want my case, it’s just to dislodge my gold-digging fiancée off of my back.”

“And if you want,” Zayn adds after a moment, “I can have yours so we can have a little infinity.”

-

Being a Vancouverite means two things:

You get used to the rain.

And you’re that odd Canadian who always talks about mountains.

Louis was born in Belgium, grew up in England, and came to Canada after graduating from secondary school. He still has his English accent, and his best friend Harry. It was a hard decision to leave everything behind but stupid Harry and his job opportunity. (And the need of a flatmate.)

Right now, Louis is listening to May shower whispering about, ready to go to bed. He already showered and his pet cuckoo, Flight, looks fast asleep.

“I wish I could feel again, I really do,” Louis mumbles under his breath. “Fuck the pain that comes with that.”

He stares at his phone for about half-hour before throwing it away, succumbing to sleep.

 

_“You’re so sinful, baby,” the dream man has a familiar face and voice, but Louis can’t pinpoint why. “I bet you’re dying to feel again.”_

_“Are you going to make me feel something for you?” Louis asks the cliché question._

_“I intend to have a future with you, nothing more,” the other man replies, so simple yet indecipherable. “Only if you let me in, that is.”_

_“I am not a pawn of your chess game,” Louis has the balls to speak those words. “So don’t hide in the shadows, I don’t like mysterious chaps.”_

_“Only if you knew who I was,” the other bloke goes on, “you’ll be terrified you think of such things.”_

_“What_ such things _do you speak of?” Louis’ breath catches at their proximity. Maybe three inches between their faces? “Do elaborate.”_

_“You’re dreaming this because you haven’t any courage to do this in the waking world,” the tanned lad raises a hand to caress Louis’ cheek. “Only when you’re ready everywhere shall I truly be yours.”_

_-_

Louis wakes up, panting and scared. He hasn’t been scared in _years_ so that’s definitely a new thing.

“You woke me up, bastard,” Harry growls at him. “I was having a nice dream where I was blowing–”

“Please stop,” Louis half-begs his flatmate. “Last thing I need is a repeat of last month.”

“Niall and I have a very active sex life,” Harry huffs out. “Not my fault yours isn’t.”

“I thought Niall would be displeased with the fact that you aren’t ready to settle down,” Louis points out coolly.

“He understands the issues I face,” Louis can make out the eye-roll in the darkness. “He also thinks it’s very human of me to want to bang the fuck out of your new client.”

“So you’re having a threesome,” Louis quips.

“Bingo,” Harry giggles like a child. “Unless you called backsies.”

“You mean dibs?” Louis rolls his eyes at Harry trying to keep up with their old English slangs.

“Whatever floats your glorious arse,” Harry retorts.

-

_“Does it bother you that I spend the night with someone else?” The voice Louis now recognises as Zayn’s muses in the dark. “Don’t be afraid to admit it.”_

_“Oh please, you wish you had the chance to tap my fabulous arse,” Louis replies sassily. “Who wouldn’t?”_

_“Dear Mr. Tomlinson, you have a long way to go if you think that was flirtatious,” Zayn’s breath stirs Louis’ fringe, a wisp of longing._

_“Are those words of consent, Mr. Malik?” Louis mocks the tone perfectly._

_“No, baby, that was me taking what’s mine,” too soon, the warmth leaves Louis’ vicinity. “I told you already, only when you’re ready will you truly be mine.”_

_“Why do you seek my feelings?” Louis tilts his head cautiously. “I am nothing more than an attorney to you.”_

_“You intrigue me, little bug,” Zayn purrs his words. “You will be succumb to your mucked feelings sooner or later.”_

_-_

Louis flips through the files mindlessly, wanting nothing more than to diminish the stirrings Zayn brought to him. Dreams are manifestations of his subconscious desires, so does that mean Zayn managed to open the portal to his heart?

“Awfully strained, sir?” Niall, the new intern brings his café bennicitto without much complaint. The fact that Harry is the deputy may have been the main cause why the awkward blond is his intern, let’s be frank.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Louis dismisses the younger chap before he’s given the reason to tell Harry something is wrong.

 

One file catches Louis’ eyes and that’s Zayn’s.

 _“Born to an English doctor mother and a Pakistani merchant, Zayn Malik is a force to be reckoned with. He was born calculated, a pawn of his parents’ cold intentions,”_ the report reads _. “He knew nothing of comfort and love, only cold cash. Once he turned eighteen, he started his own company and soon became one of the most successful investor the world has ever seen. He’s been accompanied to Asian Awards several times, even named an ambassador for his efforts. At the age of twenty-six, Zayn is a cold, lethal, and ambitious man everyone should be afraid of_.”

“It doesn’t mention a fiancée,” Louis muses to himself. “This is oddly… pleasing.”

-

“You should have gone for the runway,” Louis tells Zayn at their next meeting. “With that jawline and cheekbones, you should have everyone at your feet.”

“Oh, I tried that before,” Zayn smirks, his eyes burning like coal. “Realised soon enough that everyone would try to jump me.”

“You have the looks,” Louis steals a glance at the papers. “Why haven’t the reports I’ve don’t mention your fiancée?”

“Because she doesn’t matter,” Zayn purrs, his eyes still alit. “Tell me, someone as twink bottom as you surely have pursuers?”

“When I’m drunk enough, sure,” Louis flips the comment off. “What do you want from me, Mr. Malik?”

“I told you from the start that I want you,” Zayn speaks with so much ease, it’s almost scary. “I shall claim what’s mine.”

 

Three hours later, Louis is finishing his shift and he finds a folded note.

 _Your heart belies what you need_.

Louis has never seen the writing—only a fool would think it’s from someone other than Zayn.

“What are your true intentions with me?”

-

It’s been two weeks since Louis started on Zayn’s cause and he got used to the antics Zayn uses. He’s nothing more than a poser and client to Louis, someone he’ll get over after the case.

“Just loosen up that tight hole of yours,” Harry has the decency to hit Niall on the shoulder. “What? Like you have any better ideas.”

“Yes, and it’s called ignoring,” Louis glares at his best friend’s boyfriend, downing his _Canadian Classic_. “So, anything I should be worried about, like a child about to be born?”

“You really believe Niall can begat my child,” Harry sighs with dramatics Louis could possibly be jealous of. “Sadly, Niall isn’t equipped.”

“Just tell me what happened with Zayn during your psychiatrist visit,” Louis growls out his order.

“Okay, he told me that his fiancée spurned him,” Harry sips his hard lemonade. “All the while, she was seeing someone else and Zayn was simply a cover. A cover that can be easily broken like a glass paper.”

“So he was used,” _like me_. “That’s why he’s pursuing me?”

“No, he’s heard of you during his travels,” Harry sounds so sure of this. “He was born in Asia, mind you, and stayed there until his family moved back to Bradford when he was, like, six. He respects Asian cultures and other shite that comes with it. The question—” Harry points an accusatory finger at Louis. “—is what _you_ want with him.”

“What I want from him?” Louis lets out a careless, bloodcurdling laughter. “You honestly think I feel something for that chap?”

“It’s possible, given you already think about him as though he’s your lover,” Harry reasons, his green eyes sharp. “Don’t you?”

“If that’s the case, it’s still none of your business,” Louis waves his hand dismissively only to be stopped by his friend.

“You have to start your heart again,” the words sound final, like it’s ominous for something yet to come. “You’re human, and all humans bleed.”

“Some more than others,” Louis smiles.

-

Louis used the full advantage of his two-week vacation to scout what Zayn was up to. His spies told him the investor did nothing out of the ordinary—going to the gym, eating at 5-star restaurants, doing his stuff.

 _Surely that guy has a weakness?_ Louis curses in French.

“You’re looking for me like a lovesick moron,” Zayn’s amused words ring in the alleyway. “Truly, you seek me for your own goodness.”

“‘Seek’ isn’t the right word to use, my friend,” Louis grins at his pursuer. “Tell me, why are you so secretive?”

“Don’t you know?” Louis tilts his head to the side. “Showing weakness is what you do for your downfall.”

“I don’t plan on dying anytime soon,” Louis fixes his gaze on the other’s amber ones. “You know that much, so stop coming after me.”

“And I told you,” a _whoosh_ of air indicates Zayn is on the move, their foreheads touching in mere seconds, “that I won’t stop until I have you, little bug.”

 

“You’re an idiot,” Nick reminds Louis. “Anyone with feelings would have done something in retribution.”

“You said the key point: Anyone with _feelings_ ,” Louis huffs, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Nick, you know very well why I don’t let myself feel anything.”

“Yes, because I was partially responsible for it,” Nick snickers, flicking the embers off of his own cigarette. “Tell me, why aren’t you stopping Malik?”

“He intrigues me,” Louis exhales deeply. “That is something I haven’t had in a _very_ long time.”

“If things end the way it did with James, you’ll end up being the casualty here,” Nick advises. “Understood?”

“James was merely an awakening tool for me,” Louis stubs out his fag. “I know that now because I no longer have walls of insecurities built around me.”

-

Louis can’t sleep and it’s already 4AM. He’s tried everything from yoga to breathing techniques.

The only thing he _hasn’t_ tried is…

It’s low key, using pleasure just to seek another pleasure… Louis hadn’t the need to touch himself ever since he closed his heart out of the world—his lack of emotions being the main reason—so the very fact he’s _considering_ that action is bizarre.

“You’ve changed me, Malik,” Louis smiles to himself. “That’s something I don’t take lightly.”

His hand is wrapped around his half-hard prick and he’s still _thinking_. God, when was the last time he was feeling such lust?

 _Images of Zayn bending me over my desk, his tongue lapping at my hole… mon Dieu, il m’a changé…_ Louis grunts low, thumbing over the slit, pleasure rolling down his spine. _Fait-il impotent? Quoi? C’est rare pour sentir quelle choses…_

By the time Louis releases over his fist, the images turned into yearning.

 _Want_.

-

“You look like you haven’t slept in ages,” Zayn sounds genuinely concerned. “Anything I could do to help?”

“This case to be done and over with,” Louis mumbles not so quietly. “Tell me why you bother with not changing your lawyer?”

“Because, Mr. Tomlinson,” Zayn muses, “like I told you many times, you intrigue me.”

“And I told you back many times,” Louis barks, “that I won’t _ever_ return the feelings you’ve for me.”

“You lie, Louis Tomlinson,” Zayn clenches his fist like that changes everything. “You’ve been holed up in that nothingness for a long time. You’re bound to break sooner or later.”

 

Two hours of frustrating talking later, Zayn bids farewell and sets off to whatever he does for the night. Louis watches the man that managed to fascinate him after so many years, wondering what would happen if he were to give in.

 _He’s going to use you like_ he _did,_ the conscience part of Louis tells him. _Don’t you dare give in_ _to that mongrel._

 _You’re being harsh,_ Louis chastises himself.

_Don’t get fucked over in the end._

“I wish I knew the answer,” Louis sighs, looking at the files he’s gathered about Zayn. “Or ask if I’m okay?”

_“Zayn Malik is the son of the gun in the sense of economy. He was brought up to be…  
He has no other intentions apart from eviscerating those who dare oppose him. Truly, that man has no fears. His weakness is only one thing—love. Rather ironic that a cold, calculating person is a slave to love, as his last altercations with his fiancée stands. For betraying Malik, the late woman was killed in cold blood, nothing more.”_

_He killed his own fiancée,_ Louis claps his hand over his mouth. _What kind of man hurts like that?_

-

_“You should stop having such dreams, Mr. Tomlinson,” Zayn purrs out, words tainted by mock enthusiasm. “I know we both don’t like what is to come.”_

_“I want your love,” Louis finally admits, “but I don’t want to feel again.”_

_“You don’t have to fear anything,” Zayn croons, encasing Louis into a warm hug. “I am your protector.”_

_“But everyone lies,” Louis barely contains his anger. “You had your fiancée killed for defying you!”_

_“That was something small, compared to what will happen to you were you to refuse my offer,” Zayn promises—threatens?—menacingly. “We both favour something we can’t have then.”_

_“I told you once in the waking world that I don’t care,” Louis starts, aware this dream would end soon, “but that was a lie. I want to know everything about you.”_

_“Stop lying to me, Louis Tomlinson,” Zayn warns ominously. “Or you’ll lose something you cherish the most. Everyone never includes me, and no one ever succeeds in going against my wish.”_

With those last, foreshadowing words, the dream ends, leaving Louis with hefty breaths and confusion.

_This won’t be the last time._

-

“I told you, fuck those feelings out of yourself,” Harry declares as if that made a lot of sense. “It’s easier to quit, harder to admit.”

“Why am I friends with you again?” Louis rolls his eyes, deliberately ignoring the latte Niall brings for him. “Like, I could’ve chosen other friends but no, I’m stuck with you and Horan.”

“And I’m finally acknowledged,” Niall rolls his ocean blue eyes.

“Not for your own sake,” Louis replies sweetly. “Now tell me, where does Malik live?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Harry shrugs, pushing Niall’s head down onto his lap. “But he’s seen leaving a hotel in central London every morning at 8AM.”

“So he doesn’t have a house?” Louis finds that weird.

“No, he doesn’t stay in London, or live here, that’s what it means,” Harry rolls his eyes. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Mm, that’s not what you’d say in bed—hey, that’s my hair!” Louis whines as his hair is plucked by Niall.

“You can’t say such filthy things to _my_ Harry!” Niall hisses threateningly.

“I’m your boss, I can fire you,” Louis reminds the younger lad.

“I don’t care,” Niall growls.

“So I have to send someone to that hotel tomorrow…” Louis ponders. “Do you think Connor is still up for my missions?”

“You pay him about 15 per mission,” Harry grumbles. “I don’t get that much.”

“Because you get 30 a month,” Niall rolls his eyes lovingly. “I get a lowly intern paycheck.”

“Suck my dick,” Harry giggles.

-

Louis has three days left with Zayn’s case and, well, nothing’s in his favour. Currently sat in a bar stool with Nick, he’s having his fifth drink of that night.

Or fiftieth, he’s always been bad with maths.

“You need to lay off,” Nick states the obvious, eye-fucking the bartender who’s been handing them their drinks for the night. “That way, we can both get a lay.”

“M’not gonna get laid,” Louis slurs out, giggling at how weird his own voice sounds. “Ooh, I think I found someone!”

“He’s drunk,” Zayn sounds more annoyed than worried. “Why is he piss-drunk?”

“I told him we can have a guy’s night out!” Louis giggles again, clinging to Zayn’s shirt. “Cashmere, I bet your dick isn’t hard right now.”

“He’s also a horny drunk,” Nick winks at Louis’ client. “Now, I have a bed appointment with Mr. Twink Bartender.”

“You can read my nametag, right?” The bartender—George—scoffs at Louis’ best friend number two.

“Whatever, bottom-licious,” Nick is practically dragging George with him. “He’s a bottom, I can tell.”

George has the decency blush before signing off the shift and following Nick.

“You had a history with Nick,” Zayn observes, his smoke-tinted breath more enticing in Louis’ drunken stupor. “That’s why you’re here with him, willing to have a drunk one-off.”

“That was my original plan until you showed up, Mr. I’m Rich and Famous,” Louis pulls at Zayn’s collar, their foreheads clashing. “Tell me what you want, Mr. Malik, and I shall be yours.”

“You’re drunk,” Zayn pushes him away, much to Louis’ disappointment. “I know you haven’t been pissed in a while to avoid getting your feelings turned back on. You are smarter than this, Mr. Tomlinson.”

Then Louis blacks out.

-

Louis wakes up with a pounding headache and scent of freshly cooked waffles. As Belgian, waffles are something he takes for granted.

“Morning,” a voice calls out, and that’s when Louis notices the silver walls and expensive looking furniture.

Before Louis can push his body out of the bed, a loud bark startles him.

“Down, Crystal!” Zayn’s voice rings in the air, followed by footsteps. He literally has a greyhound by her collar, his free hand clutching onto a spatula. The pink, floral apron sets the whole _intimidating businessman_ look away from Zayn.

“Nice outfit,” Louis snickers, then realises that he’s naked apart from his boxers. “Did you undress me last night?”

“You were complaining about all the heat, Louis,” _it’s nice to hear him say my name._ “So yes, I undressed you with dubious consent.”

“Did we fuck?” The words sound and taste so crass.

“No, we didn’t _fuck_ ,” Zayn scoffs the word. “But I can assure you that you’ll be fully consenting and awake when I make love to you.”

“I don’t have an inkling of feelings for you, Zayn,” Louis lies for his own sake. “You know that.”

“What I _do_ know is that you’re a bloody liar, and a horrid one at that,” Zayn lets go of Crystal’s collar to curl a finger under Louis’ chin, forcing it up. “I know that deep inside that gorgeous body of yours, you want to feel again. To feel alive.”

“I feel alive with you,” Louis blurts out, heat rushing to his cheeks. “You make me feel frustrated.”

“That’s much further than what I hoped,” a genuine smile curves Zayn’s plump lips. “Can I kiss you?”

Louis is stunned when Zayn kisses him, softer than a butterfly’s wings, yet fierce like a hawk swooping down to catch its prey. It’s too short to give it a proper review, but Louis can feel it snap.

His old self.

-

Louis avoids Zayn for next three weeks, which isn’t very professional of him, he’ll admit that. He had roughly two and half weeks to finish off whatever he needed to do with Zayn, and that’s what he did.

(Other than fucking himself on his fingers to the thoughts of that very person, sure.)

He didn’t realise it sooner, but Zayn didn’t only turn his feelings on, he also flipped his life back on.

Before meeting Zayn, he was just a husk of a man, who slept, ate, and worked.

 _Je ne voudrais pas tomber dans amour avec toi, Zayn Malik,_ Louis notes bitterly, a cigar dangling from his lips. _Mais la vie nous futons tous, non? À la fin, nous perdons._

-

“You look like shit,” Harry says in a chipper tone than Louis was hoping for. “Don’t tell me you and Nick–”

“I think he’s the one you should fire, not me,” Niall’s more than quick to slap his hand over his boyfriend’s mouth. “He’s a potty tongue.”

Harry bites Niall’s fingers in retribution.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve told you to keep the kinky shite to your bedroom,” Louis rubs at his temples. “To answer your question, no, I haven’t fucked Nick.”

“He’s still hung up on Zayn,” the aforementioned bloke appears out of nowhere, surprising Louis. “If Harry and Niall are fucking in their room, I’m gonna get myself a new roommate.”

“I warned you against buying an apartment with them, Nicholas,” Louis _tsks_ , waving a finger. “You were too busy eating my arse out.”

“Cockiness gets you nowhere,” Nick grits through his mouthful of poutine. When the fuck did he get the food?

“Before I forget, I might’ve invited someone to the little meeting,” Harry looks _really_ guilty.

“Zayn,” Louis sighs.

“As called,” Zayn replies in that smug tone Louis wants to kiss out of him. “Man, Harry sucks at keeping things simple.”

 

Louis succeeds at dragging Zayn into a private room as Niall and Nick discuss the perks of being a top.

“Louis–”

“Zayn, don’t,” Louis stops Zayn from continuing with pouring those words he wanted to hear for so long. “Don’t say it. Ever since I met you… I felt _everything_ with you. I felt alive, I felt the pain, but most importantly, _I felt happy_. I _wanted_ to be happy. But I can’t have that with you, not when we’re both hiding from ourselves.”

“Louis–”

“Please hear me out,” Louis intercepts again. “I _need_ you to stop hiding from me, not when we’re both in love, and love? Love isn’t something I do easily.

“So whatever it is you have to say, don’t,” Louis is pleading with his eyes.

Instead of walking away like Louis pictured, a pair of smoke-roughened lips descend upon his own. It’s reminiscent of their first kiss, abrupt and short, but more passionate and definitely not gently. They’re both sober too, which has to be a plus.

Louis kisses and kisses Zayn until his musky aftershave is ingrained into his senses, their hands roaming each other’s body. There’s nothing shameful about this, just two people exploring.

Then Zayn leaves him, alone and dark in the room.

-

**_ PART TWO _ **

 

Louis stops going to work altogether. He sees no point in defending people when he’s lost what he cared about the most.

Cared _for_.

Harry forces him to get a degree in teaching so Louis can become a professor at a local college. It’s _fucking posh_ that he’s resorted to yell at kids he’s not much older than. He’s certain one of his student is a thirty-year-old with two children.

“And that’s why everything is fucked up,” Louis summarises the lesson to a roomful of gasping college students. “There isn’t a pretty word to cover it up. Life screws us all, and we all get scarred.”

“Professor Tomlinson,” one of the kids Louis actually _likes_ raises his hand. “Is it true you used to be a lawyer?”

“Read up on me, eh?” Louis wants to praise him—he thinks his name is Bradley. “Couple months ago, until February, yes.”

“Then why are you teaching Philosophy?” Brad asks.

“Because that’s what I minored in, class dismissed,” Louis snaps.

 

“So this is where you’ve been hiding,” an amused voice echoes in Louis otherwise empty classroom. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Malik,” Louis inclines his head to notify he isn’t interested.

“You’re not supposed to say that,” Zayn growls. “You’re supposed to hug me and make me want to fuck your lush arse.”

“Well–”

“You think you’re so tough, Tomlinson, but you’re not,” Zayn growls, intensity burning in his dark amber eyes. “Louis, I’m saying this _because_ I need to say this, I _have_ to let this out. We’re both reckless because we’re in love, but we both also need an outlet. I’m not the right one for you, I can never be, so this is stupid, saying I wanted a whole life stretched in front of us, bickering about the dinner menu, or how I was late for picking up our kid. Something all couples argue about. That’s the future I had planned for you, to telling you what I did with Perrie.”

“I don’t fucking care,” Louis gets the last bit of paper he was sorting. “What I felt for you—for us—is gone now. It’s been four months, Zayn, I learnt the hard way you didn’t care enough about us.”

“You lie,” is the last thing Zayn mumbles before crashing their lips together.

The thing is, Louis got better at lying and hiding whatever he used to feel for Zayn. He pushes Zayn away, but the recoil has him pushed towards the wall.

 _Une avance_ ,Louis curses inside his hand.

“Little bug,” Zayn nuzzles his nose against Louis’ cheek, like the first time they were in this position. “You can’t escape from me. You can’t escape _me_.”

The kiss is calmer, more reassuring than anything. Zayn’s large hand comes about to cup Louis’ jaw, angling their faces for a better kiss. Louis smiles against Zayn’s lips, the part of Zayn’s anatomy he missed the most.

“As much as I’m enjoying this,”Zayn chuckles with their foreheads pressed together, “I don’t want to make love to you in a sodding classroom.”

-

Louis’ back hits the silver wall he saw a handful of weeks ago as soon as they’re in Zayn’s house. The boom echoes in the air, then Zayn proceeds into ripping his clothes off. It’s sinful that Louis is fully bare to Zayn’s hungry gaze when only the older’s fly is undone, his erection poking out.

“I loved you from day one,” Zayn sighs, one finger circling Louis’ hole. “God, I wish there were a way to show you that.”

“I don’t…” Louis begins futilely, an expert finger curled into his prostate. “I don’t want it to be like that.”

“A pity fuck?” Zayn withdraws his hand. “I don’t want it to be that either.”

“This doesn’t mean anything,” Louis mumbles, his words lost in translation. “I still don’t feel anything.”

“Four months is a long time to close yourself off, never mind sixteen years,” Louis curses in French at the acuteness. “Harry is bad at keeping secrets.”

“And also fired if I had my old job,” Louis growls. “Why do you care?”

“Because love makes you do things that you can’t begin to fathom,” Zayn’s soft hand cups Louis’ face, which he leans into. “Please let me in.”

“I can’t,” Louis is afraid of losing control.

“You won’t, I promise,” Zayn presses their lips back together, letting Louis get his taste of heaven.

-

They don’t have sex.

Louis is surprised that he’s cuddling with the walking temptation, chest to chest, wrist to wrist, and completely naked.

“I have loved you since the beginning,” Zayn strokes Louis hair that’s grown haphazardly. “Did you know that?”

“You remind me every hour,” Louis sighs contently, his head rested on Zayn’s shoulder. “So mind telling me about your fiancée?”

“She double crossed me,” Zayn’s face contorts with anger. “I thought she was genuinely mine, but she was sent after me from the opposing agency. I was young and naïve enough to believe she loved me. When I found out, I was livid. I annihilated anything that suggested her existence. After all, that’s what a good killer does, right?”

“You aren’t a killer,” Louis presses his lips to the hollow of Zayn’s neck, where he learnt as his weak spot. “You were defending yourself.”

“Only an apath would say that,” Zayn sounds amused by Louis’ reply. “Nothing less from you, I guess. But bear in mind, Louis Tomlinson, I will stop at nothing for rebuttal.”

“I love you,” Louis blurts out. “So don’t you dare misuse my heart.”

“You finally admit it,” Zayn chuckles, nudging at Louis’ nose with his own. “It only took eight months.”

“Hush you,” Louis rolls his eyes, batting Zayn’s arm away. “You get the sleeping alone treatment tomorrow.”

“Why not today?”

“Because I’m sleeping, shh,” Louis says fondly.

-

Louis gets used to having Zayn in his life just like he did with becoming apathetic.

The difference, of course, is that he loves Zayn, which is the last thing he needed in his life.

Not that Zayn is a bother when he—

“You suck at sneaking up on me,” Louis groans at the assault his neck is getting. “I can hear your footsteps.”

“Then my work has yet to be improved,” Louis can hear the pout. “Why are you making breakfast at 11AM?”

“Because I can’t be arsed to wake up at a normal hour on weekends,” Louis turns around to peck at Zayn’s lips. “And stop being an idiot.”

“I prefer the term ‘lovesick moron’,” Zayn pouts again. “Didn’t you use that against me once?”

“Out of love,” Louis giggles, setting the plates down on the table. “Tell me why you love me.”

“Because you’re a single black diamond in midst of other ones,” Zayn says all too preparedly. “Oh shit, that sounded too made up.”

“Oh really,” Louis shoves a bacon strip in Zayn’s mouth to keep him from replying. “I thought it was cheesy.”

“If you’re into food sex, I’m up for it,” Zayn grins.

“Oh hush,” Louis hides his blush by wiping at his mouth with a towel. “But back to the point, you must have more than one reason to love me.”

“Your arse, duh,” Zayn rolls his eyes. “Anyone with eyes can see that your arse is better than anyone else’s.”

Louis giggles again.

“So you want to see it bounce anytime soon?” Louis suggest slyly.

“Would we both be naked?”

“Duh,” Louis sucks on a stalk of asparagus particularly hard.

-

Start of September comes with the scent of drying heathers and falling leaves. Louis is outside to teach their new puppy, Lyon, a lesson.

“No, Lyon,” Louis sighs heavily. “You’re supposed to pick the ball up!”

“Bark!” Lyon replies enthusiastically, resuming to chase his tail. “Bark bark, woof!”

“He wants to play, not train,” Zayn states the obvious, donning black silk shirt and black skinnies.

“Do you want to kill me?”

“No?” Confusion is written all over Zayn’s face.

“Then don’t wear all-black outfits that make you look hotter than the usual,” Louis pouts, scooping Lyon up into his arms. “Daddy Zayn is a meanie, don’t you think?”

The puppy starts licking at Louis’ chin.

“I’m returning this little fucker,” _that’s a lot of saliva in ten seconds_. “You’d better have the receipt.”

“Oh don’t be a dramatic bitch,” Zayn slaps Louis on his ass as they walk back into Zayn’s luxury mansion. “By the way, I’ve a business trip to Toronto next week.”

“Oh joy, you want me to tag along,” Louis sighs dramatically. “Niall and Harry can house-sit your mansion.”

“I bought a little villa not too far from St. Lawrence Strait,” Zayn shrugs. “I go to Toronto a lot since that’s where I grew up–”

“You never tell me these things,” Louis wrestles with Lyon for his favourite cushion.

“But you’re coming with me,” Zayn continues like Louis hasn’t spoken at all, “no matter what. It’s a coastal view and you’re going to love it.”

-

Louis has been on his share of flights but he hates them.

The food they offer is horrible, usually half-frozen, and once, the nuts he had was expired six months ago from that day.

“It’s a private jet that I own,” Zayn rolls his eyes at Louis. “It’s a four-hour flight, and there’s a promise of mile high club for you.”

“Okay,” Louis squints as the belts sign lights goes off. “You’re gonna blow me?”

“For a former apath, you’re incredibly expressive.”

“I still am,” Louis huffs. “Apathetic, I mean. I only feel for _you_ , there’s a difference. Unless you count the times Niall got my coffee order wrong.”

“Harry says that Niall is his bitch,” Zayn sounds fond… _too_ fond. “Would you be surprised if I told you something crazy?”

Louis gives his boyfriend a _go ahead_ look.

“Harry and I knew each other from primary school,” Zayn gushes out. “He told me you two met in secondary school and, fuck, I should have told you sooner.”

“It’s not like you two liked each other, is it?” Louis wants to crawl into a hole and die.

“We weren’t really friends but we were each other’s first kiss because it was PE and we _had_ to play footie… I’m sorry,” Zayn apologies.

“Harry never told me where he was from,” Louis sighs.

“He’s from Cheshire but he moved to Leeds at a young age.”

“If you keep talking, I won’t be sucking,” Louis hisses a warning, his hand unzipping Zayn’s pants; Zayn shuts up immediately. There was a time where Louis wasn’t a _giver_ in sex, but Zayn changed everything. Louis smirks at the sight of Zayn’s naked erection once the jeans are pulled down. Usually, guys going commando is a fucking turn-off for him but it’s _Zayn_ he’s talking about. Zayn is the hottest fucking person on Earth. (Sorry Justin Timberlake.) He doesn’t hesitate before wrapping his lips around Zayn’s hardening shaft, right to the point until his nose is pressing into the bush at the base. He hasn’t got any gag reflex, which _has_ to be a plus, and Zayn seems to like that too. One moment, Louis is looking up into Zayn’s caramel-mocha coloured eyes and next, they blur from the force of how hard Zayn is fucking his throat. It’s a common misinterpretation how people think that people without gag reflex don’t gag. In sense, they don’t, technically, but their throats are still being poked at, hence the why Louis’ eyes are tearing up. It’s fucking hot though, Zayn’s teeth tugging at his lower lip, one hand dipped into his joggers, inside his boxers, and they press into his perineum. He lets out an involuntary moan, and soon, Zayn is fucking his fingers against his prostate from the outside. He didn’t know it was possible—then who does?—but Louis comes in his boxers like a teen as Zayn follows the suit seconds later.

“That was hot,” Zayn pulls Louis into his lap with a kiss to his temple; Louis giggles in response.

-

Zayn stays in Toronto for four days for his work, and spends next two weeks at the beachside villa with Louis. It was romantic as fuck—he won’t admit that out loud—that they got to take strolls at the private beach every sunset, compare what shitty sea shells they can find, and the beach blow jobs were definitely good.

“I never, well,” Zayn starts, “I never rimmed someone before.”

“Oh,” Louis is surprised. Someone who looks like Zayn should be a fucking sex god, in his humble opinion. “You’re bringing that up, because?”

“If I eat your arse out here, I wouldn’t get sand in your arse, right?” Zayn questions. “Your arse won’t be on the sand.”

“Good point,” Louis giggles, rolling onto his stomach on the mat they brought with them. “So eat my ass like a cupcake.”

“You’re _so_ incorrigible,” Zayn rolls his eyes, lowering his swimming trunks regardless. “I should teach you a lesson.”

“Oh please, we aren’t Christian and Anastasia,” Louis begins to activate his sass mode. “I never would—fuck.”

“You were saying?” Zayn sounds _so_ cocky, his tongue running over Louis’ entrance again. “Anything you want to say?”

“Fucking—shit,” Louis claws at the mat, only to remember that they’re in the fucking beach and he can’t really hold onto anything.

Louis moans as Zayn’s surprisingly cold tongue enters him, then licks at his inner walls. It’s the most erotic—and intimate—thing he’s ever done with anyone. A distance part of him is jealous that Zayn probably ate out a vagina as part of foreplay with a _girl_ , but he brushes that off.

He can never think straight whenever Zayn’s around, never mind when he’s coming from Zayn’s talented tongue.

-

“ _You have something planned for him, you lovesick idiot,_ ” Louis can faintly hear Harry on the Skype call. “ _If it’s something cheesy, I will personally_ –”

“Louis’s here, gotta go!” Zayn hurriedly shuts his laptop off. “Hi babe.”

“Um, what was that about?” Louis rubs the towel against his hair to dry it faster.

“Remember the lunch I mentioned for today?” Louis nods. “Harry found out and he wants to know _what_.”

“It’s a surprise, you told me that.”

Zayn grins.

 

Four hours later, they’re back on land, surrounded by bunch of people who sound too American for Louis’ liking. They’re at The Keg, and the waitress’ tits are falling out halfway.

“She’s checking you out,” Zayn growls, one protective kiss on Louis’ cheek over the table. “You’re mine for a reason.”

“Possessive bastard,” Louis rolls his eyes. “So what are we possibly doing today?”

“Have I mentioned your accent is cute as fuck?” Zayn blurts out.

“What?”

“Your accent… it’s an odd mix of Belgian, English, and Canadian,” Zayn nips at Louis’ thumb pad.

“I didn’t notice that,” Louis flushes deep shade of red.

“You’re so cute when you blush,” Zayn thanks the waitress when she brings them their _vin ros_ _é._ “I have a lot of things planned for you—for us.”

“Like?”

 

The rest of the lunch is extravagant, to say the least, and Louis is certain Zayn spent 60 bucks on their meal.

“Now, we’re going to the Marine Land,” Zayn kisses Louis’ cheek. “It’s an amusement park I go to every time I come here.”

“Oh?” Louis presses his side to Zayn’s.

 

The rides aren’t really aquatic-themed, but they’re sure as hell child’s play. Right now, they’re at the indoor-aquarium at the Beluga whale tank.

A treasure box opens and Louis gasps.

A banner flows with a cursive writing that reads _‘will you do me the honours and marry me, Louis Tomlinson?’_

“Bloody yes,” Louis takes Zayn’s hand and kisses him hard, not caring that there are people around him.

-

“You still claim to be apathetic,” Jacob, one of the professors Louis actually befriended shakes his head, “yet you’re in love with Zayn.”

“I still am,” Louis shrugs, flicking embers off of his cigarette. “I just feel for Zayn—usually love and lust—but for anyone else, it’s still a blank.”

“I don’t get it,” the Musical Theory professor takes a drag of his own cigarette. “What happened to you to acquire apathy?”

“No one knows, nor will I tell,” Louis scowls at the sight of people in black attire in the May sun. “The fuck?”

Jacob opens his mouth to say something—probably about how they’re intruding—but one of the men brings out a stun gun and shoots him.

“Um,” Louis has a gun pointed at his temple.

“You have no idea who Zayn is, do you?” The man growls, his voice somewhere between tenor and baritone. “Just come with us, no one has to die.”

 _Today_ , Louis gets the implied message.

 

Twenty minutes of ride later, blindfolded, they arrive somewhere. He can’t see a fucking thing, that’s the thing, but he knows that he’s in a large house by the echoes.

“He’s here,” a new voice—which isn’t all that surprising because come on, he’s abducted for fuck’s sake!—and he sounds like he’s in charge. _Typique._ “You can leave us alone now.”

“If I’m here for some random, my secretary can give you that,” Louis pleads, tugging at the knots of his blindfold. “He has my password and everything.”

“Sweetheart, you aren’t here for ransom,” the voice is so masochistic, it’s frightening. “You still don’t know who Zayn is, do you? I’ve been watching you and you have all the fabricated documents he sent you _deliberately_.”

“What do you mean?” Zayn never lied to him… “Speak English, would you?”

 _“Mon Louis dulce,”_ Louis is surprised that the man can speak French. _“Nous reconnonons._ ”

-

**_ Part three _ **

 

 _“Quoi?”_ Louis hisses in his native tongue. _“Je ne jamais… je ne reconnais ton voix_.”

“Oh cut the crap,” there’s nothing in the other man’s words that suggests softness. “You know me, you just don’t remember because you blocked that out.”

“I only repressed _one_ thing in my entire life and that’s—fuck you,” Louis shakes his head in disbelief. “What do you know about Zayn, _James_?”

“Did you miss me?” James cajoles, clearly amused by this interaction. “It’s been—what?—nearly six years?”

“You were in Scotland the last time I heard,” Louis hisses at his ex-fiancé. “What are you doing here?”

“I see that your current fiancé hasn’t come clean to you,” James snaps his fingers and the blindfold is gone. “Hello, sweetheart.”

Louis grimaces as his eyes adjust to the bright light, something he hasn’t seen in hours. He can take in the chandelier that’s illuminating the hall and James looks smug.

“You said I’m not a ransom,” Louis recalls. “Then I’m a hostage, aren’t I?”

“I see why Zayn has hidden his true identity,” James murmurs, almost more to himself than to Louis. “After all, you never knew the truth about me.”

“What, he’s a drug lord?” Louis snorts.

“Hm, close enough,” James waves his hand and Louis hears the doors closing behind them. “He’s an assassin.”

“Right,” Louis laughs despite his situation. “And I’m a siren.”

“Don’t you think it’s odd there’s hardly any information about him?” James points out. _True, an anonymous help sent me his files…_ “Think, Louis, use that UT brain of yours. He told you himself he killed his ex-fiancée for double-crossing him, he didn’t say someone killed her for him.”

“Same difference,” Louis looks around the room, considering to throw the chair near them towards the ceiling and break the chandelier as a distraction to escape. “Why are you telling me this?”

“It’s a shame Agent Edwards got discovered,” James cackles sardonically. “She was quite the actress but I reckon Malik was better.”

“You’re the agency he mentioned,” Louis hisses. “I thought you were just bank accountant.”

“I own the British mafia,” James shrugs. “I sent Connor to you to spy on you because I knew you were Malik’s next target.”

“Target..?”

“Okay, you were his assignment,” James sighs dramatically. “He’s an assassin, yes, but he’s also trained in protecting his boss and he knew my men were after you.”

“You’re lying.”

James’ grin is the last thing Louis remembers before everything spirals.

-

“For fuck’s sake, I said not to use too much vaporised morphine on him!” Louis hears a strangely familiar voice hiss. “He’s—oh, you’re alive.”

“My head’s gonna split into five million pieces,” Louis whines. “What the fuck did you do to me?”

“Oh, it wasn’t me, it was Tristan,” James makes up an excuse. “He’s new and–”

“Knows how to blow you,” a blond man, who can’t possibly be older than eighteen. “By the way, Malik found out. Turns out, they’ve got Brad.”

“Fuck that little twink,” James sounds annoyed, if not furious. “I never thought he was Malik’s spy.”

“We can send Zayn a little message,” a sadistic smile that Louis saw on James way too many times appears on Tristan’s. “Get your phone.”

 

Twenty minutes later, Louis is naked and bound to a chair. It’s wooden, which only means that it’s uncomfortable as fuck.

“You see, Zayn,” James purrs, a knife skimming at the insides of Louis’ thighs, “you fell in love with someone you were assigned to _kill_ , which _,_ in my opinion, is stupid. You were supposed to either kill or protect from me, which aren’t really different to me, and you fucking _proposed_.”

There’s a phone right in front of Louis, filming everything. Louis’ breaths hitch from fear. He’d be a bloody fool to think this is a simple bad blood between them. You don’t show a video of–

“What are you doing?” Louis gasps when he feels a finger prodding at his entrance. “Oh God, you can’t rape me!”

“This is a warning,” James croons, and something is injected into his arm. “Babe, you know better than to cross me.”

Louis doesn’t know if he’s talking to the phone or to him.

“Look at how pliant he is,” James purrs, one finger crooked into Louis’ prostate. _The bastard gave me an aphrodisiac!_ “Bet you know how he sounds like in bed.”

Louis had sex with James once or twice during their short two-month long relationship, maybe a blowjob here and there.

“He’s talented with his mouth too,” James adds, a soft, but hard, object prodding at his lips. “But you knew that too.”

Louis hisses in pain when the knife slices his hip, just barely nicking, but still oozing blood.

“Just see us where I want you, and he’s all yours,” James nods at his henchman to stop recording.

-

Louis is tired of waking up to people rustling outside his cell.

“Wake the fuck up,” the voice belongs to someone he knows too well. “For love of God, will you wake up?”

“Nick?” Louis isn’t surprised—who the fuck is he kidding, is everyone he knows a fucking assassin?

“Zayn had me track you, and I think he’s gonna kill me for taking so long,” Nick undoes the chains with ease. “James was clever to use a disposable phone but I’m not called a tech genius for nothing.”

“I thought you were just a DJ,” Louis scowls at his best friend.

“That was my cover,” Nick shrugs, taking out a small pen that has a laser point. Oh. He beams the thing at the wall and it just cuts clean.

“Remind me not to piss you off,” Louis steps through the small hole his friend has created. “So what exactly are you?”

“Zayn’s an assassin, as James probably told you,” Nick ushers Louis into a small helicopter. “I’m a tracker and Niall is our informant.”

“And who’s this Brad James mentioned?”

“James’ ex-lover,” Nick motions at Louis to sit at the cockpit with him. “Don’t worry, I got my flying license when I was nineteen.”

“Yeah, that was over a decade ago,” Louis reminds him.

“I’m not that old, Louis Troy,” Nick hisses, using the name Louis discarded a long time ago. _Too much memories._ “So, tell me, what happened with James? Did he rape you?”

“Zayn would kill him if he did, you know that,” Louis gulps as the aircraft takes off into the air. There’s a lot of turbulence; maybe he can feel it because a helicopter is really fucking small compared to an aeroplane.”

“We just took off, Louis is alive and well, over,” Nick barks into the hands-free radio.

 _“You’d better fucking bring him in one piece, or I will shove my foot up your ass so far up you’ll be spitting out my socks,_ ” Zayn’s voice makes Louis’ heart flutter. _“Over_.”

“I’m _so_ dead,” Nick mutters.

-

“Nicholas Peter Grimshaw-Styles–”

“He’s related to Harry?” Louis makes a face at the information he’s never heard, nor ever imagined in his wildest dreams. “The fuck is next, Zayn is my long-lost uncle?”

“Keep yer kinks to yerself,” Niall emerges out of nowhere, with Harry in tow. “Good t’ know you’re still alive, by the way.”

“All this time, I was the only one who was clueless,” Louis growls. “What’s Harry then?”

“I’m the boss,” Harry yawns, nipping at Niall’s collar. “Which is really fucking annoying, because I get about five hundred calls a day.”

“Oh.”

-

_Three months later_

 

“I think—Zayn, there are people _right_ outside the door!” Louis gasps, his husband-to-be nibbling at his teal-coloured tuxedo, and he’s hard.

“It’s our wedding reception, we can skip lunch,” Zayn refutes, one hand grasping Louis’ erection. “C’mon, I told you no sex ‘til marriage and our honeymoon technically began.”

“We’re going to Bahamas,” Louis reminds him. “So—fuck.”

Zayn unbuttoned his fly and they’re around his ankles soon. He hears a lid popping off, a wet finger pushing inside him seconds later.

“Fuck me, no prep,” Louis whines, hearing Zayn unzip his trousers in record time. “Fuck.”

“Gonna open up for daddy?” Zayn purrs, and Louis can actually _feel_ Zayn’s pre-come steadily spilling into his passage. _That’s hot as fuck_. “I want to see your face, baby.”

Louis pants, his arms bent above his head in an angle that isn’t uncomfortable, and Zayn kisses him hard. It’s more lustful than passionate, tongues tangling and teeth clashing. Louis hardly realises that Zayn slid into him, the girth more than what he’s used to.

(James wasn’t nearly as big as Zayn, fuck.)

“ _Mein tumse pyaar karta hoon,”_ Zayn whispers, which is the only thing Louis knows in Urdu— _I love you_. “Forever.”

Louis giggles, then Zayn rams into his prostate, turning the innocent sound into a pornographic moan. Skin slapping skin fills the tiny storage room they’re refuging in and Louis can’t hold back the filthy noises—and his orgasm.

“Gonna, gonna,” Louis whines, throwing his head back against the wall, ignoring the pain as he coats their stomachs white with his release. It’s rare for him to come without someone jerking him off, whether his prostate is being abused or not, but Zayn is just fucking good at it.

Zayn kisses his neck, nipping at the collarbone playfully, and fills him up to the brim.

Everything is perfect.

-

_Epilogue_

 

Everything is _not_ perfect.

“Rowad Jean-Pierre Malik-Tomlinson and Amala Sophie-Marie Malik-Tomlinson!” Louis screeches at his teen twin children, covering his dick with a towel. “What did I say about pranking your parents?”

“That it will only result in grounding?” Rowad rolls his hazel green eyes, eyes that are so akin to Zayn’s despite the fact that they used Louis’ sperm for the surrogate, looking at his _papa_ defiantly. “I mean, Kris said it’s okay.”

“Kris is Uncles Niall and Harry’s mischievous son, whose dick you’ve been sucking for last four months,” Zayn growls, garnering a surprised gasp from their son. “Next time you have sex with your boyfriend, try not to do that in the back of _my_ car that I lent you for a movie date.”

“We’re not dating,” Rowad pouts. “We’re just, um, experimenting?”

“I hate you,” Louis huffs at his husband of nineteen years.

“I love you too, baby,” Zayn chuckles, pressing a kiss to his temple as Amala watches them like they’re some sort of soap opera.


End file.
